


Wasurenaide

by WaterTOAST512



Category: haikyuu, hanahaki - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Don't Read This, Floof, Haikyuu - Freeform, Hanahaki Disease, Hospital, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Sobbing, Young writer
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 15:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 13,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26620123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaterTOAST512/pseuds/WaterTOAST512
Summary: “Love is the cure, and the disease.”- Unknown. Welcome to Wasurenaide, a Hanahaki Haikyuu AU! I hope this turns out good.
Relationships: matsuhana
Comments: 8
Kudos: 43





	1. Chapter 1

He stared blankly at the score board. 26 to 24. Hanamaki sighed and sunk, worn out and sweating, to the ground. Watari collapsed to his knees beside him, Kindaichi doubled over, trying to catch his breath as Kyoutani just looked on in shock. Iwiazumi stared at Oikawa as the setter stood and watched as the ball behind him slowly rolled further and further away.

After what felt like decades the buzzer sounded and Karasuno screamed in triumph.

Hanamaki just smiled and looked towards the ceiling, letting his tears slide down his face. We lost…

The rest of the night was just a dull blurr. He could remember standing in a circle with his teammates for the last time as their coach congratulated them on their perseverance. It only caused them to cry more. He remembered Oikawa yelling at him for disapproving of how much he was eating to weigh down his sorrow. He remembered Iwaizumi and Oikawa arguing about who was more sorry, ending with Oikawa being chucked across the street. He remembered almost throwing up while playing several practice matches with his fellow third years. He remembered demanding that Oikawa just end the night on a light note. He remembered Oikawa’s words, the words that destroyed him inside.

“Thank you for these three years!”

And he remembered how his best friend avoided him that whole night, never once standing directly beside him, never sitting next to him, even suggesting they should play on different teams while practicing. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything in the end…”

It was late at night, stars bright overhead, as he and Matsukawa walked home. Oikawa and Iwaizumi had broken off on their own path home and it had been him and Matsukawa alone for about twenty minutes now. 

Hanamaki didn’t look up at him, he just kept staring ahead, “It’s not your fault.”

“I know,” Matsukawa whispered, “But, maybe if I had been there I could have done something-”

“But you weren’t there and nobody could have done anything.” Hanamaki stated, bluntly, cutting him off.

Matsukawa was quiet now. But it didn’t last very long.

“Are you going to play volleyball in college?” He asked.

“No.”

“Why not?” He pressed.

“Because…” He stopped before he could tell the whole truth. The truth is that I’m not going to play anymore because you won’t be there. 

Ever since they were kids, whenever Hanamaki joined their schools’ volleyball team Matsukawa was with him. He’d never realised that he’d made an involuntary promise to stop playing once he and Matsukawa parted ways. 

“That’s a shame, I bet that whatever team you ended up on would be glad to have you.” Matsukawa commented.

Hanamaki looked away and internally screamed, his face red and his chest tight. Holy crap, he’s so nice and he doesn’t even realize it!

Then, he realized the hot tears streaming down his face and vigorously tried to wipe them away; but it was in vain. One sob escaped his throat and that set Matsukawa off and they continued to walk home in the darkness of the night, into the pain of each other’s sorrow. 

“I hate November.” Oikawa complained, shivering, as they walked to school, “It’s too cold!”

“He’s seriously not gonna like it when it starts snowing.” Matsukawa scoffed under his breath, earning a chuckle from Hanamaki.

“Well, what do you want me to do?” Iwaizumi snapped, “I can’t change the seasons!”

“But it’s so cold! I think my fingers are freezing off,” Oikawa whined, staring down at his gloved hands intently, as if waiting for one of his fingers to die in front of his eyes.

“Would that be such a bad thing, though?” Hanamaki asked mockingly.

“Yes! I wouldn’t be able to play volleyball anymore if I have no fingers!” Oikawa wailed. 

“Do you think Shiratorizawa would want a fingerless Oikawa that couldn’t play volleyball?” Matsukawa joked.

“No, no they would not.” Hanamaki replied in his most monotone voice.

Iwaizumi and Matsukawa broke into fits of laugher while Oikawa continued to complain about the cold and how rude his friends were. These were the types of days Hanamaki cherished, the days where the weather was cold and they could all make fun of Oikawa together. But Hanamaki’s joyful grin faded as he caught himself once again staring at Matsukawa’s glowing smile. Why do I feel like I can’t breathe very well all of a sudden? 

Unbeknownst to him, he’d been getting that feeling a lot since that night in October. Since the night he spent wide awake, sobbing and thinking of all the things he could have done differently. But, he should have gotten over that already. Right? So…

Why was he feeling like this all of a sudden?

He shrugged it off as nothing as they entered through the gates and onto school campus, hoping no one had noticed the change in his behavior. But, Oikawa, with his perceptiveness and having known Hanamaki for almost as long as he’d known Iwaizumi, could tell that there was something very wrong with his friend and worry began to prick at him. 

Maybe, if Oikawa had said something right then and there he could have prevented what was in store for him. What was in store for them all.


	2. Chapter 2

Hanamaki stared ahead at nothing. Oikawa had been progressively getting more and more worried about him in the two weeks since he noticed the shift in his friend’s disposition and wanted to say something to him, wanted to say anything to him, but just didn’t now how. 

Oikawa had finally realized that Hanamaki was practically a mystery to him. They’d only ever really bonded over volleyball and when he thought about it hard he even realized that maybe Hanamaki didn’t want to be friends with him at all. They’d become friends because their best friends were friends with each other. And that sounds really complicated but it’s actually fairly simple. 

Iwaizumi and Matsukawa met in elementary school a few years after Oikawa and Iwaizumi had met. Matsukawa became friends with Hanamaki and introduced him to Iwaizumi who introduced him to Oikawa. See? Simple! But awfully confusing. And awfully troublesome in Oikawa’s situation because the setter had absolutely no idea how to talk to Hanamaki. 

Oikawa sighed and deflated, how could he help his friend if he barely knew anything about him? Iwaizumi noticed Oikawa’s frustration and turned to him, “What is it, Trashykawa?”

“I would prefer it if you stopped with the names!” Oikawa hissed.

“No.” Iwaizumi replied bluntly, “Now tell me what you’re so worked up about.”

Oikawa straightened, placing his hands on his hips and sighing again, gesturing to Hanamaki who continued to stare at nothing. But, from afar, to Oikawa and Iwaizumi it kind of just looked like he was staring blankly at a wall.

“It’s Makki, I think there’s something wrong with him.” Oikawa pointed out.

“Well of course there’s something wrong with him. He’s looking at that wall like it holds the secret of life itself.” Iwaizumi muttered.

“I know! He never does that, though, right?” Oikawa complained, his frustration growing.

“No, definitely not.” Iwaizumi confirmed, “What should we do about it though?”

Oikawa thought hard for a second, choosing his options carefully. Suddenly, it came to him and he lifted a finger in triumph, “We consult Mattsun!”

“You want me to what?” Matsukawa asked, shocked.

Oikawa groaned, “We want you to go ask Makki if he’s depressed about something and what it is.” He explained for the fifth time. 

“Well, Hanamaki isn’t the type of guy you can just go up to and expect him to tell you about every thing that’s bothering him.” Matsukawa huffed.

Iwaizumi crossed him arms, “Well, what type of guy is he then?” He demanded, not aggressively, just extremely worriedly.

“He’s like Oikawa but worse,” Matsukawa replied, Oikawa flinching and slapping a hand to his chest with a gasp of offense. Matsukawa waved at Oikawa with a hand, signaling the setter to let him elaborate, “He bottles up all those feelings and doesn’t let anyone know about them because he feels like he’ll burden them. He literally a ticking time bomb of negativity just waiting to blow up and I’m pretty sure that’s what happened. He’s a very secretive person, y’know?”

Oikawa hummed an agreement, “Yeah, I remember when I was like that. It was awful.”

“When you were like that?” Iwaizumi snorted, “You still are like that, just less of an angsty, junior high brat.”

Oikawa whipped his head around and glared at Iwaizumi before looking back up at Matsukawa, “So, what do we do?” He asked.

“Well,” Matsukawa mused, rubbing his neck thoughtfully before gesturing back at Oikawa, “What did you do to be less of an angsty, junior high brat?”

Oikawa thought hard, harder than he’d ever though about math, and his eyes dulled and he realized what his answer was going to be, “I broke and couldn’t take the stress anymore.”

Matsukawa’s eyes widened as he tensed, “Oh, crap, that’s not good.”

“Hey~, Makki.” Oikawa cooed, his hand held innocently behind his back as he bobbed towards his friend. Matsukawa and Iwaizumi sent him to go speak to Hanamaki since he’d experienced similar lows to his friend.

Hanamaki looked over at the brunette setter dully, “What?”

Oikawa flinched but kept up his strained smile, his eyes quickly filling with concern as he saw how tired his friend looked, “I just wanted to make sure you’re all right.”

Hanamaki’s eyes lowered in sort of a guilty way and he nodded, “I’m fine.”

Lies! Oikawa wanted to yell but he kept his mouth shut and his voice quiet as he gently pressed of the very concerning matter of his friends mental health, “Are you sure?” 

Hanamaki nodded again and flashed him a very kind smile. Oikawa almost fell over in shock, he’d never seen him smile like that at him before. “Thanks for your concern but I really am fine.”

It took Oikawa longer than it should have to realize that everything Hanamaki had said and done was fakery and when he did realize it, it was too late to catch him because Hanamaki had already walked off. Holy crap, he’s so good that I almost believed him. This is worse than I thought.

After reporting back to Matsukawa and Iwaizumi they tried to devise another plan to figure out what was wrong with their friend. But all the ideas they came up with were illegal, you can’t stalk your friend for a week and you can’t lock them up in a basement until they tell you what’s wrong, so, they were officially in a rut.

Right now, Iwaizumi had his arms crossed, his feet tapping angrily on the floor, “Well, what the heck do we do know? We’ve just discovered we barely know anything about one of our closest friends and now we can’t even figure out ways to help him?”

“We’re such bad people.” Oikawa murmured.

Matsukawa and Iwaizumi did nothing to object to Oikawa, both of them agreeing on the fact that they were all terrible human beings. But, in reality, it was none of their faults. 

In the next two weeks Hanamaki had returned relatively back to normal. Oikawa liked to joke that “It was just his time of the month” but they all were still slightly bugged about the fact they’d never actually figured out what was wrong with him. 

Matsukawa was the only one that stayed just slightly more observant of his friend than usual. He’d noticed, like everyone else, that Hanamaki appeared much better than previously. The dark circles beginning to form beneath his pretty green eyes had subdued to an almost unnoticeable tinge and his personality had gone back to his normal sarcastic and tranquil ways. Hanamaki was always a very peaceful person, to be around and in the way he made you feel by just being next to him. 

But something still seemed off about him to Matsukawa. 

In becoming more observant of him, Matsukawa noticed Hanamaki had gained small involuntary habits. His body seemed almost restless, twitching every now and again, his fingers constantly tapping quietly on any surface they found in front of them, letting out a small cough ever so rarely. The small, irrelevant signs bothering Matsukawa to the point where he would find himself counting how many times he witnessed these habits throughout the day.

He absolutely despised English now.

He had to sit behind Hanamaki and he could never seem to focus on the classwork, too caught up in spying on his friend. Hanamaki hated English as well because he could constantly feel Matsukawa’s intense gaze watching him. 

Maybe I did something to tick him off… I wonder what, Matsukawa would begin to think miserably, I should apologize but I can’t if I don’t know what I did. That’s really awful of me… to not know what I did to make him like this. 

Matsukawa sighed quietly as their teacher continued her lecture, closing and rubbing his eyes. He stretched out across his desk, their young English teacher didn’t care if they sat straight or not, and sighed deeper, opening his eyes and narrowing them to focus on nothing. 

A small cough escaped Hanamaki but Matsukawa paid no attention to it, everyone coughed. Especially when they had to sit in a stuffy classroom when the weather was perfectly nice outside, the shades drawn, as the teacher blabbered on about the hardest language to learn in history. I mean, who needs twenty different variations of ‘their’? 

The teacher jotted something down on the chalkboard, the chalk clinking annoyingly. Matsukawa frowned, staring up at the clock on the wall, waiting. Only two minutes until class is over. He tried to focus on the soft ticking emitting from the clock to drown out his teacher’s droning voice.

And then, he looked back down at the floor. If he hadn’t, he probably wouldn’t have noticed it. It was small, actually, it was very small, and very unnoticeable. But, Matsukawa’s bored eyes had been looking for something to focus on and the white floors of the classroom brought out the pale blue of the tiny flower petal resting gently on the ground. 

Huh… I wonder where that came from. Was it there before? He thought hard for a second and decided that he had been looking at that particular patch of floor only a few minutes before and hadn’t noticed any small, blue, flower petal. 

He squinted at it, studying it. It felt as if that tiny flower petal was staring straight back at him, its gazes boring into him. Watching him.

The bell rang loudly and Matsukawa shuddered, pulled from the trance the petal had over him. He completely forgot about the flower petal as he stood, gathered his things, and set off to his next class with the petal drifting quietly across the floor as the student’s feet stirred it.

It wasn’t fully dark outside yet, though the sun was barely visible as it dipped below the suburban houses lining the streets. The sun was an aching, bruised purple that lightened to a pale peachy color. Clouds streaked the sky and stars began to twinkle on the horizon ahead of them. 

Oikawa was continuously talking throughout the whole walk, none of them really paying attention to him, Iwaizumi muttering a reluctant answer ever now and again, until he and Hajime waved off on their separate path.

It was just him and Matsukawa now. 

Completely alone in the growing dark and the stifling silence.

Hanamaki stared down at his feet, never once making eye contact with him. Matsukawa just kept on walking, eyes set straight, with no intention of saying anything.

It was only when the last bits of sunlight were disappearing that he realized that Matsukawa had missed his turn home. Hanamaki looked up, shocked that he hadn’t noticed, and glanced over at his friend. What he saw in Matsukawa’s eyes set a heaviness in the pit of his stomach.

He looked unfocused as if he were bored, obviously not paying any attention to the missed turn. It was as if he were staring at something off in the distance. But there was nothing to stare at, nothing of remote interest or meaning. Just houses upon houses, stretching as far as he could see, huge, wooded hills stretching into the sky where the town stopped and the smaller, more spaced apart houses began.

Matsukawa suddenly snapped out of his faze and looked down at him from the corner of his eye before turning to face him, “What?” He asked.

Hanamaki tensed and let out a nervous laugh, “N-nothing! It’s just…” He raised his hand a small bit and gestured behind them, “You kinda missed your turn.”

He looked back up at Matsukawa and found them staring at each other. He looked away quickly, hiding the small dusting of blush on his face. Matsukawa went back to staring off at nothingness and Hanamaki went back to looking at his feet.

It was somehow quieter than before now. But this time the silence was awkward and tense. Hanmaki shuddered as a cold breeze from the oncoming fall brushed his skin. He coughed painfully once and looked off to the side.

“I just didn’t feel like going home quite yet.” 

He flinched and looked back up at Matsukawa.

“Why?” He asked, quite genuinely confused.

Matsukawa smiled and shrugged, “Dunno,” And then he stopped walking, “And you almost missed your house.”

Hanamaki looked up and, sure enough, they'd arrived at his house. He almost hadn’t noticed.

Matsukawa stood back and let him through to the front gate, “Thanks, but, you know, you really didn’t have to walk me home like this. Your mom’s going to get worried.”

As he reached for the lock on the gate, Matsukawa suddenly placed his hand on top of Hanamaki’s. He stopped, rigid, not daring to look up at his friend. Matsukawa slowly removed his hand and took a step beck, “Listen…”

Hanamaki sighed and looked away, hands in his pockets, fidgeting nervously. He knew exactly what Matsukawa was going to say.

“I don’t know what's going on with you,” He continued, “But if you ever need to talk, you know I’ll listen. Right?”

Hanamaki nodded, briskly walking through the gate and into his yard, “Yeah, I know.”

He turned back and looked over his shoulder as Matsukawa leaned on the gate with a smile, “Best friends, yeah?”

“Of course,” Hanamaki scoffed, smiling genuinely for the first time in what felt like weeks, “Until death and after.”


	3. Chapter 3

Hanamaki seemed much better after they’d spoken and now it was as if nothing had even happened at all. They’d just assumed he’d had a cold or something and that was it, Oikawa still sticking with his childish joke. Now, there was really only one thing that bothered Matsukawa now.

He continuously would find small flower petals all over the place. They were always very small and ranged from light to dark purple or blue with tiny yellow centers. In certain classes he would find a few of them and never knew why he would find them in just those classes and not some others. The petal seemed awfully familiar to him but he didn’t know why or exactly what type of flower they were coming from.

He would never come across a full flower, though.

Oikawa had been having frequent allergy attacks lately and Matsukawa assumed it had something to do with the flower petals he’d been finding. The third years were currently sitting in the gym watching as the first and second years conducted practice matches against each other. Oikawa sat on the floor surprisingly, not caring about it being dirty, being over dramatic about his stuffy nose and treating it as if he were about to die.

“Iwa-Chan…” Oikawa croaked.

Iwaizumi, who sat on the bench, ignored him. 

“Iwa-Chan.” Oikawa repeated. 

Matsukawa huffed a laugh, watching the ordeal out of the corner of his eye as the first and second years practiced. There was silence, only interrupted by the slamming of the volleyballs to the other end of the court, for a few seconds before Oikawa sneezed for the billionth time in the last day in a half. 

“Why do the Gods hate me?” Oikawa groaned, sitting cross-legged and wiping an arm across his face.

“Because, they just do.” Iwaizumi replied bluntly, not even so much as glancing over at Oikawa, and continued to watch as the first and second years practice. 

Oikawa flicked a hand back and slapped him on the leg, and as a response Iwaizumi kicked him. Matsukawa scoffed again and shook his head. They sat in their school uniforms, none of them even bothering to change for practice seeing as they left earlier than the first years and second years now. The season was over for good for them now but every once in a while the third years would play a nice practice match with their former teammates.

“Hey.” Oikawa muttered, looking around with a confused expression, “Where’s Makki? He’s usually always the one waiting for us.”

Matsukawa’s eyes widened, He’s right, I almost didn’t realize how late it was. He should be here by now. The first and second years took practice until around ten on Fridays, and today was Friday. The third years, though, usually left by 9:30.

It was 9:46.

Hanamaki was unusually late.

He was never late.

Ever.

Worry squirmed in his stomach and he stood, “I’ll go find him.” He offered immediately.

Oikawa checked his phone and nodded, “Yeah, my mom’s gonna go off on me tonight, it’s already almost ten.”

Iwaizumi kicked Oikawa again, “Quit your whining, we can wait for a few minutes.”

Matsukawa turned, leaving his bag, and his phone, back on the bench, and set off. As he approached the door to leave the gym he could hear the soft pelting of rain on the roof and gravel paths outside. He groaned, it was cold out and he was going to get wet. But, that didn’t really matter to him all that much at the moment, he just wanted to find Hanamaki and head home before the rain got any worse. He exited the gym and shivered as icy droplets instantly make his skin feel damp and itchy, shivering as a frigid breeze hit him like a cold wall, and he reluctantly continued out into the night. It was bright out despite the sky being covered by gloomy clouds, the type of weather Matsukawa would usually enjoy if it was viewed from the safety of his dry and cozy home. 

Matsukawa walked quickly to the main building, not wanting to be outside in the cold rain any longer than needed and pushed through the front doors, dripping from the rain. It was late November and the weather would just continue to get colder. 

He walked through the dark, eerily quiet halls, the only sound he could hear was the calming swish of the rain outside the big windows lining the halls and the quick tap of his feet as he walked to Hanamaki’s locker where he assumed he would be. But, as he neared his destination he began to feel a growing sense of dread, weighing him down as he searched for his missing friend. And that's when he saw it; small and sitting in the middle of the hall as if waiting for him.

Matskawa bent and picked up the tiny, pale blue petal. He examined it for a second but there was nothing striking about it, it was just like all the other petals he’d found in the last couple of days. He squinted at the petal as if it had some secret it refused to tell him. He dropped the petal back where it originally sat and continued down the hall.

There was another flower petal.

And after that petal, three more before they started to increase in amount. He began to find small groups of them, only maybe three or four, but never a full flower. He looked down at his feet, watchful for anymore of the petals, wondering with great curiosity where they were all coming from. 

And then he finally rounded the corner that led to Hanamaki’s locker and stopped, eyes drawn to the ground.

A flower.

Yes, a flower.

A full one.

Sitting right before him with it’s soft blue petals spread open in insignificant beauty. The moonlight turned the little blue flower silver. He recognized the flower immediately. 

It was a Forget-Me-Not, his favorite flower because of its tendency to grow in soft blues or purples that reminded him of the sky at dusk. They symbolized remembrance, associated with love and lost ones that were precious to us, they were belive to provide protection and luck. 

His eyes narrowed, focusing on the small scarlet droplet that glistened on the edge of one of the petals.

And then, there was Hanamaki. 

Matsukawa couldn’t seem to be able to move as he stared down at his friend, laying peaceful and still on the ground. Flower petals stained red had settled to the ground next to him, as if signifying that nothing had stirred them. No movement, no breath.

The hallways were suddenly cold and cramped, the previously calming sound of the rain outside pounding in his ears. The sight before him should have had his heart racing in panic but all he could feel was numb, a heavy weight inside him, as he stared down in horror.

“Hanamaki?” He whispered.

There was no response.

Hanamaki somehow became more motionless.

And the heaviness Matsukawa felt grew.

Thunder clapped outside, the bright flash of lightning illuminating the hall for a split second. Matsukawa could suddenly move again, his hands shaking as he kelt down next to Hanamaki who was still unmoving.

“Hanamaki?” Matsukawa repeated, reaching out a hand.

But he stopped, tensed, as Hanamaki suddenly came back to life. His breathing was labored and raspy and his body trembled with each breath. His eyes fluttered open just slightly, glossy and dull with pain, and he looked up carefully at him, stirring the dozens of flower petals resting on the floor.

“Matsukawa..?” He murmured weakly.

“I-” He had no words, his mind was blank. Everything he thought about doing or saying felt wrong, he had absolutely no idea how to even begin to fathom the situation he was thrown in.

“Matsukawa…” Hanamaki rasped, “I can’t breathe.”


	4. Chapter Four

If he was smart he would have called an ambulance. But he was utterly and hopelessly stupid, and, even worse, he’d left his phone back with Iwaizumi and Oikawa. All he could do now was hope Hanamaki had his phone with him.

But Hanamaki didn’t have his phone with him. He didn’t even have his bag. It was as if the whole entire world was against him at this point, as if the world was trying to take Hanamaki away from them. 

Matsukawa gazed helplessly down at Hanamaki, his eyes stinging, blurring his already shaking vision. He shook his head, clenching his jaw and mentally cursing himself for being so useless. He stood quickly but immediately froze, Should I leave him? What if something happens while I’m gone? Should I stay? But if I go I can get help.

Hanamaki then let out a cough and a small wince and Matsukawa completely forgot about any decision he was about to make. Sinking back down to his knees, he tried all he could to comfort his suffering friend. He reached out his hand again to Hanamaki, his fingers shaking so much anyone would have though he was having some sort of seizure, unable, once again, to do anything to provide any support in this situation. 

What do I do? Matsukawa ran his fingers through his hair, panicking. 

What do I do? He fell back into a sitting position.

What do I do? The stinging sensation formerly felt behind his eyes began to fall quietly down his face in hot, messy tears.

What do I do? His quiet crying became soft sobs of frustration.

What do I do?! He internally demanded, hoping his brain would start to function normally again.

“Matsukawa…”

Calm and soft.

That’s what hearing him say his name used to feel like. Now it made him terrified out of his mind, made him hope that he would go blind and never have to see the horrific scene in front of him. It made him wish he were the one laying on the floor struggling to breathe as the life slowly drained out of him with each passing moment that felt like hours of indescribable pain. 

“Matsukawa, I’m sorry.” Hanamaki whispered, “You should have never been dragged into this…”

Before Matsukawa could even begin to comprehend what Hanamaki had said he heard footsteps around the corner and down the hall. Two pairs of footsteps, actually, coming from the way Matsukawa had taken. 

He came to the quite obvious conclusion that footsteps meant people and people meant help and help meant… well, he hadn’t thought that far. 

“Don’t worry, Hanamaki, there’s help coming. Just try to hold on, please.” He begged.

Just as the footsteps rounded the corner he heard a loud, shaking gasp, like one you would’ve heard in a horror movie. Matsukawa looked up quickly, relieved to see Oikawa and Iwaizumi. Iwaizumi’s face was darkened with terror and Oikawa had his mouth covered with his hands in shock.

“Oh my God.” Oikawa whispered.

Matsukawa had no words for them, absolutely nothing, and he didn’t even try to explain anything before Iwaizumi waved a hand at Oikawa quickly, “Get your phone out, call 119. Hurry!”

Oikawa shuffled through his pockets for a moment before tugging his phone out of his back pocket, almost dropping it in the process. He didn’t even have time to type in his measly four number password, instead hitting the emergency button which took him directly to his dial pad where he dialed 119, trying not to hit the wrong buttons with his quivering hands. 

“Hello? What is your emergency?” Matsukawa heard a woman faintly ask on the other side of the phone. 

Oikawa pressed the phone to his ear and turned away from the other three, the barely five second glimpse he had gotten enough to make his blood run cold. Matsukawa didn’t pay any attention to what Oikawa was telling the woman but he could hear the obvious panic rising in the setter’s voice.

Iwaizumi, who now crouched beside Matsukawa, eyes wide as he looked back and forth between him and Hanamaki who still struggled to hold onto what oxygen he had left, spoke, “Matsukawa, what’s going on here? What happened to Hanamaki?”

“I don’t know.” Matsukawa muttered.

Hanamaki coughed once and more flower petals joined the others. Shock and realization spread over Iwaizumi’s face and he set a hand firmly on Matsukawa’s shoulder, forcing them to make eye contact.

“I know what this is.” Iwaizumi stated before standing and gesturing for Oikawa, who was a stuttering, nervous wreck now, to give him the phone.

Iwaizumi turned and paced the halls, Oikawa only backing away and sliding down the lockers, pulling his knees close to his chest. Matsukawa watched as Oikawa covered his ears, tears welling in his milky brown eyes, muttering to himself, “What’s going on? What’s happening?” Over and over. 

A realization came to Matsukawa that what Iwaizumi and Oikawa were seeing before them terrified them. But for some reason all Matsukawa could feel was a heavy numbness inside him, a numbness that prevented him from creating any intelligent or useful thoughts. He looked back down at Hanamaki who had resumed shaking in either fear, pain, or both, Matsukawa couldn’t tell.

Iwaizumi stopped his pacing, “An ambulance will be here in two minutes


	5. Chapter Five

Oikawa didn’t like the lights. Or the noise. Or the way that Hanamaki had to be wheeled into the ambulance on a stretcher, only being barely kept alive by a dinky oxygen mask. He didn’t like how Iwaizumi had to rub circles on his back, consoling him as Oikawa tried to refrain from crying in front of the rest of the team. 

It all horrified him. How was something like this possible? What even was going on? Oikawa didn’t know, neither did Matsukawa, neither did any of the first or second years who watched in awe.

But his dear Iwa-Chan seemed to know exactly what was going on.

“Iwa-Chan…” Oikawa murmured, gazing at pure nothingness, “What’s happening?”

“I don’t know for sure but I have a hunch it’s something awful.” Iwaizumi muttered back.

Oikawa hummed slightly, watching as one of the EMT’s spoke to Matsukawa. He watched Matsukawa nod and proceed to walk towards him and Iwaiuzmi, “I’m leaving.” He stated flatly once he reached them.

Oikawa knew that his sudden bluntness wasn’t his fault. What Matsukawa had just witnessed must have made him void of all emotion but fear, or at least that’s what was happening with Oikawa himself.

“Okay…” Oikawa understood why Matsukawa had to leave but he looked like he had more to say. Instead Matsukawa sighed, looking away and turning once again. 

Oikawa watched as he walked off.

Oikawa watched as the ambulance left.

Oikawa watched.

And he continued to watch long after the ambulance had driven away.

And Oikawa’s teammates watched him, wondering what their captain was thinking. But he wasn’t thinking, he was just staring.

Hanamaki was currently unconscious. As soon as they arrived at the hospital tests upon tests were taken, everyone struggling to figure out what was going on with their patient. Matsukawa was struggling to figure out what was going on as well. His eyes still stung even after he had stopped crying. They stung with exhaustion and the slight dampness left behind by his tears. 

But what left him in pain the most was sitting there, unable to provide any assistance. His heart hurt, his brain hurt, everything hurt. But he knew it was worse for Hanamaki. His breathing was getting shallower by the minute, even with the oxygen mask. The doctors kept upping the strength of the oxygen but it did nothing. 

Hanamaki was slowly suffocating and nobody knew why. 

All he saw was white. He didn’t like the color white. It had always made him uneasy. It reminded him of cold and snow and hospitals. He knew he was in a hospital now. He didn’t like hospitals either. He didn’t like it. 

Every once in a while there would be a pale flash of pink or blue. People were around him. He didn’t like people.

Sometimes he could even hear muffled voices of the people around him. Sometimes the voices were quiet or louder, but they were always inaudible. He didn’t like that he couldn’t hear them.

He could feel everything getting tight, getting smaller. He could feel his breathing getting worse. He didn’t like the feeling of not being able to breathe.

He didn’t like it. 

And suddenly he felt everything stop. The whiteness became still, stiller than white could be. The flashes of pink and blue stopped. The voices stopped. His breathing.

It stopped too.


	6. Chapter Six

Matsukawa was deep in thought, hands folded, looking down at the floor as he sifted through all the theories of what could be happening, when something began to bother his ears. It was rapid beeping. Very rapid. 

He looked up quickly, eyes wide as two more doctor, or nurses, he didn’t know, joined the two previously in the room. They were all panicking, he heard one say, “Should we begin compression?”

“No, don’t!” Another doctor demanded, suddenly rushing into the room and startling the others. This one already seemed like they were more educated in the situation than them, “Hanahaki! Flowers! Lungs! Don’t!”

Nevermind. This doctor was speaking complete gibberish. 

“If you start compressions you may crush the flowers in his lungs and instantly kill him.” The doctor explained in words they could actually understand.

“How are we supposed to save him then?!” Another of the doctors snapped.

“We don’t-”

The doctor was interuppted by a long beep, it didn’t stop, and it wasn’t interrupted. Matsukawa knew what that meant. He felt a feeling he’d never felt before at that moment. He felt like everything inside his body cracked to pieces.

The doctors did nothing, they just stared at the heart monitor, at the long flat line. Matsukawa felt a burning rage towards those idiot people that called themselves workers of the medical force. Hanamaki was still, he had been still ever since they brought him in, but now he seemed so still that Matsukawa could almost be sure everything had stopped. 

He pushed past those insufferable doctors, refusing to believe anything that was happening. Dropping to his knees he grasped Hanamaki’s face in his hands.

He was already getting cold.

“Hanamaki?” Matsukawa whispered, “Hanamaki, please, just open your eyes.”

No response. No movements. No nothing. Nothing.

Nothing. 

He was surprised that he wasn’t breaking down in tears yet. He thought that maybe he’d have a bigger reaction to his best friend literally flat-lining right before his eyes.

“Please.” He begged, burying his face in the dying warmth of the blankets on the bed, “Please.”

A hand was placed gently on his shoulder and he flinched, “I’m sorry,” One of the doctors murmured, looking ashamed as they should be, “There was nothing we could do.”

Was? Matsukawa clenched his jaw, throwing back his hand and slapping the doctor away from him in a fit, “He’s not gone! He’s not! He’s going to wake up and be fine!” Matsukawa didn’t even care that he was wailing in desperation like a child, he just wanted Hanamaki to be okay, to wake up, to breathe again, “He has to be.”

Tears began to drip down his face. They weren’t warm, they were icy, like how he felt inside and how Hanamaki’s precious face felt. 

He waited one minute.

The doctors began to leave, obviously thinking that there was no hope at all for Hanamaki at this point.

He waited two minutes.

He began to shake, staring deeply at his friends face. Hanamaki’s body had grown frigid. 

He waited three minutes.

Still nothing. Just absolute stillness and coldness. 

He waited four minutes.

Matsukawa’s body hurt from shaking and his eyes stung from crying. He was tired and his mind swirled but he couldn’t seem to be able to think properly. 

And then, on the fifth minute, he gave up. 

The room was completely silent, the doctors had stopped coming in and left him space to spend a few last minutes with his friend. Matsukawa didn’t have the strength in him to continue crying, he didn’t have the strength in him to continue hoping Hanamaki would wake up and be fine. It wasn’t fair to him or Hanamaki. 

“I’m sorry…” Matsukawa muttered, dropping his head down onto the bed, rubbing the top of Hanamaki’s freezing hand with his thumb, “I’m so sorry…”

Be-eep


	7. Chapter Seven

Be-eep

What’s that noise? Matsukawa thought to himself, looking around the room.

Be-eep

There it is again… Matsukawa’s eyebrows, his quite gorgeous eyebrows at that, furrowed in confusion. He absolutely could not figure out where that beeping noise was coming from but deep down, in the darkest pits of his broken heart, in the very back corner of his brain, he knew where it was coming from but shock wouldn’t let him look up at that fated heart-monitor. 

Be-eep… Be-eep… Be-eep…

Matsukawa couldn’t believe what he was hearing, he wanted to be sure that the noise was coming from where he thought it was but he was too much of a coward to look up. He sought out the only other validation that would satisfy him and studied Hanamaki’s still form. Or, he thought it had been still a moment before.

Matsukawa strained his eyes to make sure what he was seeing was real. Once he felt like he couldn’t stare any longer, he looked up, gazing thoughtfully at Hanamaki’s face.

“Hey,” He asked quietly, “I know you can’t hear me, but… Are you maybe, perhaps, breathing?” He cocked his head, waiting with what he knew was a stupid hopeful look on his face, for an answer, any answer at all.

Suddenly, to his extreme surprise, that answer came in the form of a small breath deeper and longer than the other teensy ones Matsukawa wasn’t even sure was breathing or just his eyes playing tricks on him. Hanamaki let out a tiny sigh.

A tiny sigh of life.

Matsukawa, at first, was horrified, flinching and jumping to his feet, finally stealing a glance at the heart monitor. It spiked slightly, not quite twice each second like it should but it was enough to make Matsukawa’s horror turn to ecstatic happiness. He felt warm with joy spread through his body. It was a miracle. An impossible miracle.

I hesitant nurse came in, speaking softly, “Hey, sorry to intrude, by we saw readings on the monitor and I just need to check if- HOLY CRAP!” They screamed, instantly bolting out of the room. 

They came back literally, not even joking, five seconds later followed by an older looking doctor. The older doctor didn’t seem phased at all but Matsukawa saw immense surprise flash over their eyes for a split second before they took action. 

“Get the oxygen mask back on, put an IV back in, run more tests. I’m going to schedule a CT scan.” They ordered, “We’re not going to give up on him this time.”

Barely an hour later doctors were rushing in and out of the room. Dozens of more tests were taken, blood was drawn, questions he couldn’t answer were asked to Matsukawa all as he watched in shock and returned fear. His best friend was alive again after being flat-lined for almost five minutes. There was a high chance it could happen once again.

It was almost one in the morning when the commotion died down, leaving only two doctors in the room; the one who came in after Hanamki’s heart started, and the one they brought in immediately afterwards. Currently, Matsukawa was sitting nervously in a chair beneath the window, awaiting for any diagnosis. 

The older of the two doctors, the smart one, walked towards him with a clipboard, “We’ve called the boys’ mother and she said she’d be on her way.” That wasn’t all, Matsukawa knew. The doctor them proceeded to kneel down in front of him as if they we a father talking to their child, “Now, we know this may be hard, but is there anything you know about what’s going on with your friend here?”

Matsukawa shook his head.

The doctor let out a deep hum before standing once more, “Well, we’ve taken all the tests we can possibly take. We just have to wait until the results come in, the x-rays we took should be ready fairly soon. We’ll come back with them in a short while.”

Matsukawa nodded as the doctor left and it was just him and the nurse watching Hanamaki’s vitals. A small ding from his phone made him flinch, he knew it was from either Oikawa or Iwaizumi but he wasn’t in the mood to speak to either of them. He put his phone on silent, sinking back into the chair with a heavy sigh, his eyes watching the small spikes in Hanamaki’s heart rate intently.

Matsukawa hadn’t realized that he’d closed his eyes until he was jolted awake as the door to the hospital room slammed open. He watched as Hanamki’s mother burst into the room, tears streaming down her face. Two nurses chased after her, pleading for the woman to be quiet and slow down. 

Hanamaki’s mother was somewhat of the average parent. She looked a lot like her son, the same shade of pinky brown hair, the same shade of pale green eyes, the same pretty light skin. Her hair reached to just past her shoulders and was slightly messy, and she still adorned her work clothes. Matsukawa remembered Hanamki telling him a while ago that his mother worked from three in the afternoon to two in the morning. She must have been on her way home when the hospital had called her. 

“Ma’am, please, try to be a bit more quiet! There are other patients sleeping!” One nurse begged, placing a gentle hand on the woman’s shoulder. 

Hanamki’s mother ignored the nurses and stood at the side of her son’s bed, her face an absolute mess, “Oh, o-oh my gosh. My baby!” She dropped to her knees, heels clicking, and sobbed.

Matsukawa couldn’t possibly begin to try to understand how she felt. Hanamaki was the only boy in his family, with an older sister as well as a younger one, not to mention his father left when he was six. How could his mother possibly survive losing another person she cared about? But, thats exactly how this awful world worked. Only making people so half could go off and do something with their lives, while the other half suffered and were only created to be in the background of the main character’s stories. The world had already planned a long time ago to take everything away from that poor woman. 

As her crying died to small whimpers, as she pleaded for forgiveness to the gods and her unconscious son, a doctor stepped up and whispered, “Ma’am, we have the results.”  


The x-rays were laid out in front of him and Hanamaki’s mother on a metal table. Matsukawa had absolutely no idea what he was looking at. He didn’t know if the whiteness almost completely filling the picture of Hanamaki’s lungs was natural or unnatural but he felt as if it was the latter and he didn’t like it. 

Hanamaki’s mother dabbed at her wet eyes with a tissues one of the nurses has so graciously provided her with and sniffed, “What am I looking at here?” She asked, her voice tight.

One of the doctors lifted up a small bag and inside it, stained with blood, was a pretty pale purple flower, “We recovered this from the place your son was found, miss.” They spoke in a gentle voice.

Hanamaki’s mother still seemed confused, “Yes, and? What about it? It’s just a flower.”

The doctor nodded, “Exactly,” They stated and the proceeded to tap a spot on the x-ray with a dry erase marker, “This spot right here, this white spot, what does it look like to you?”

Hanamaki’s mother leaned a bit forward, studying the photo, Matsukawa doing the same but a bit more vaguely. Then, it hit him, he had known that the flower had come from Hanamaki but he didn’t know from where, why, or how. He didn’t know why iwaizumi had seemed so urgent although the situation called for it, but his spikey-haired friend had seemed to know more about the situation than he or Oikawa had. But, now he did know. He knew exactly what was going on.

His eyes widened and his stared the doctor straight in the eyes, “It looks like a flower.” He whispered.

The doctor nodded, setting the marker down and crossing their arms, “Exactly.”


	8. Chapter Eight

Iwaizumi had agreed to spending the night over at Oikawa’s house. He knew that the burnette wasn’t going to be okay alone although he wouldn’t have been alone either way since his parents were there. But they were sleeping and Oikawa said that he “Needed the company of his bestie.” 

Oikawa somehow had convinced him to watch two alien documentaries with him and, in all honesty, it took Iwaizumi’s mind off of things. Y’know, for a second. Oikawa was still shaken up about things and was actually still crying after almost three in a half hours. He kept asking every five minutes if he could text Matsukawa yet, or if they could go to the hospital but Iwaizumi knew that that would only make Oikawa more scared. Although he himself actually wanted to know what was happening, he wanted to check up on two of his closest friends. 

Just as that small thought came to his mind, both iwaizumi and Oikawa’s phones dinged. Iwaizumi instantly sat up, pushing Oikawa off of his shoulder, and reached for his phone. Oikawa didn’t bother reaching for his, knowing full-heartedly that Iwaizumi would tell him the truth of whatever Matsukawa had texted to them. Iwaizumi’s olive green eyes skimmed over the message, narrowed.

Mattsun : Iwaizumi

Mattsun : Makki got diagnosed

Iwaizumi sat up straight, Oikawa watching him with confusion and concern.

Really? What is it? : Iwaizumi

Mattsun : I think you already know

I want confirmation though : Iwaizumi

What is it? : Iwaizumi

Mattsun is typing…

Oikawa, who was watching the texts between Mattsun and Iwaizumi, sat up. The tense look on Iwaizumi’s face filled his heart to the brim with fear, “What is it?” He asked quietly.

Iwaizumi shook his head, signalling for him to wait a few more seconds. His phone dinged as Mattsun’s message went through and Iwaizumi’s eyes fell. Oikawa instantly leaned over his friend’s shoulder, his chocolate eyes glancing only once at the screen before all was revealed to him.

Mattsun : It’s Hanahaki

Oikawa placed a shaky hand over his mouth to stop himself from screaming. He knew what Hanahaki was and he couldn’t believe that he didn’t recognize the disease when he saw Hanamaki’s state in that hallway. All the signs pointed to it, every little difference in Hanamki’s personality since October, all the small habits, his sudden lack of sleep, his sudden coughing, his everything. It all pointed to Hanahaki. 

So how could Oikawa have been to stupid?

Hanamaki was supposed to be his friend but Oikawa was an idiot. He didn’t notice his friend was suffering in silence until it was almost too late. Hanamaki was always someone Oikawa trusted in, relied on, he always knew Makki would cheer him up whenever he was sad, especially in the last month, with some awful, outdated meme. But, Oikawa couldn’t do the same for someone so important to him. 

Oikawa Tooru was a horrible, self-centered friend.


	9. Chapter Nine

Matsukawa had been sitting in the eerily white, oddly chemical smelling, hospital for over five and a half hours. Hanamaki’s mother had reluctantly left with much convincing from the doctors as well as himself. She was a mess, and she was exhausted from a long day of work, she obviously needed to go home and get some sleep. She’d promised Matsukawa that she would be back when the sun was up to check on Hanamaki before work. She didn’t want to have to leave and she was distressed at the fact she would only be able to visit her son for a few hours, her boss, she told, was vile and rarely ever let his workers take time off. 

Matsukawa honestly really wanted to throw that guy out the window…

Of a plane…

Into Shosenkyo gorge…

With lava instead of water…

And landmines lodged in the rocks instead of coins.

The doctors tried to convince him to go home as well, saying that Hanamaki was in critical but stable condition and that he should be fine over the rest of the night, to which Matsukawa instantly refused. He couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to Hanamaki while he was away, plus, it was now Saturday, a weekend day, he could stay as long as he wanted. He’d already contacted his mother who understood completely, only forcing him to make a promise to come home for dinner the next night. Well, currently that night, seeing as it was three in the morning. He was so tired, he couldn’t even get his eyes to focus enough to see the time on his blindingly bright phone screen. 

He rubbed his eyes aggressively and sighed harshly. 

Oikawa had forced Iwaizumi to ask if it was possible for them to visit Hanamaki at the hospital tomor- later today. He still kept forgetting the time. Matsukawa had then told them that the doctors said it would be fine, as long as they didn’t touch Makki. 

Matsukawa rubbed his face harder. He wished he could scream. He wished Hanamaki would wake up. He wished his best friend would be okay. Hanamaki always listened to him whenever life got too much for him, he always comforted him, he pulled him out of his comfort zone just enough to where he didn’t feel awkward. Hanamaki was the perfect human being, but now some disease that he was sure was fictional was hurting him, killing him slowly. 

Right now, at the moment, at this terrifying, pain-riddled, moment of forever, Matsukawa felt like NJEIUJHEHwdhehdBHEJdgsSUEhhODP. He legit felt exactly like that.

Why isn’t button-mashed a feeling?

It really should be.

It really, really should be.

Y’know what should also be a feeling?

Screet.

Because if screet was a feeling, that would be how he felt every single day. Just screeting along life.

Matsukawa groaned, his brain was fried. His thinking was the equivalent of a three year old with a concussion getting their first migraine. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears and his eyes felt as if they were being coated in sand. Even closing his eyes wouldn’t make it go away. 

And he was hungry.

Oikawa would not, repeat, would not, stop crying. He had his knees pulled to his chest, his hands constantly running through his hair. Iwaizumi tried comforting him but Oikawa refused his help, saying he’d rather cry it all out. At this point, Oikawa’s crying left stains across his now rosy cheeks, his nose was glossy and pink, and his eyes were puffy and red, not to mention he’d already developed bags underneath them, his hair was messy and his shirt sleeves and collar were wet from wiping his face on them. 

Iwaizumi didn’t look too shabby, if he did say so himself, for having woken up at five in the morning and staying up until three in the morning, his hair was slightly disheveled, not as much as Oikawa’s, and his eyes were slightly bloodshot but not too much. His mom had called earlier to see where he was, and she was extremely distressed seeing as she had found out at two thirty in the morning that her son was missing from his room, and he had told her that he was spending the night at Oikawa’s but didn’t tell her any more than that. He didn’t know if Hanamaki or Matsukawa really wanted the situation to spread across the whole town seeing as his mother was even worse of a gossiper than Oikawa was. 

A small snore snapped Iwaizumi out of his inner monologue and he looked over to gaze upon the sleeping figure of the one and only Oikawa Tooru. The pretty brunette was curled into a ball, his arms still wrapped around his knees, and had rolled to the side to rest his aching head on his pillow. 

Iwaizumi sighed, he could finally go to sleep as well now. He sat up and scooted further up the bed to lay his head down and sighed. He turned over and stared at Oikawa’s peaceful face, reaching out a reluctant hand to wipe the last remaining tear from his soft cheek. Oikawa slightly shifted in his slumber and Iwaizumi flinched his hand back quickly.

Both he and Oikawa knew they were something a little more than friends but they never admitted it to each other. They didn’t know how to deal with their shared feelings for one another and Iwaizumi was perfectly content with that, Oikawa gave him enough affection as best friends as is, and he liked their relationship. He didn’t really want to ruin that. Although, he knew full-heartedly that if Oikawa asked him out he would say yes.

Iwaizumi sighed contently and flipped back over. He gently closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, the thought of Oikawa next to him warding off any coming night terrors.


	10. Chapter Ten

Matsukawa had drifted off into a cold, terror filled dream. He couldn’t seem to stay asleep, waking up many times during what was little left of the night, and when he did manage to fall back asleep, nightmares filled his head. 

He didn’t like being jolted awake by images of blood and flowers, nor did he like the nightmares where he saw Hanamaki drifting away from him, disappearing, fading into the darkness, unable to catch him. He was pretty sure that over the course of about seven hours he’d developed anthophobia. 

He was awoken, this time, luckily, by Hanamaki’s mother prodding him gently by the shoulder. Pale golden sunlight filtered into the room even despite the shades being drawn, and stained the gloomy white room a sparkling orange.

Matsukawa inhaled deeply and sat up, rubbing his eyes, “Hello, Mrs. Hanamaki. I assume you’re here to see Takahiro?” He didn’t like using Hanamaki’s given name, it felt strange.

“Yes, I am,” She replied quietly, weakly. She was still shocked and upset about her son’s condition, obviously, any sane mother would be. She gazed softly down at Matsukawa with appreciation, “Thank you for staying here.” 

She stood back, letting Matsukawa stand, and bowed to show her gratitude. He’d never had an adult besides his mother or aunt bow to him before, or even show him any respect for that matter. So, this was oddly new. And like almost every new thing he came in contact with, he didn’t necessarily like it. 

“A-ah, there’s no need for such a high thanks,” He murmured, looking over to where Hanamaki still layed, unconscious, “If it’s for him then I’d stay here for the rest of my life.” He added beneath his breath, low enough to where Hanamaki’s mother couldn’t hear him but could see his obvious dedication to his friend and her son.

Hanamaki’s mother nodded, completely understanding, although she didn’t know the half of how much Mattsun truly cared for her child. Which was a lot. More than a person should care about another person. He kind of creeped himself out sometimes. He was weird. Makki was weird. They were weird. Together. Matsukawa needed to stop. He was internally rambling. Makki had always told him that his best and worst trait was his tendency to overthink. He was still rambling. Crap, he really did need to stop.

At that moment, he realized that he was staring at the floor intently, causing Hanamaki’s mother to grow increasingly worried, “Maybe you should head home, you mother must be worried and you must be awfully tired.”

Matsukawa shook his head with a smile, “No, no, I’m fine, really. Plus, I’d like to stay for a little while longer, if that's alright with you.” He asked politely, rubbing the back off his neck, another one of his habits. 

Hanamaki’s mother gasped, “I’m shocked that you feel you would have to even ask me that!” She reached up and placed a hand on Matsukawa’s shoulder and he slightly stiffened. Human contact was a big no no for him, but this time he would let it slide since she was an adult he respected, “You’re allowed to stay with Takahiro anytime. I know that you’re a very good kid, Issei.”

Matsukawa nodded and gave Hanamaki’s mother a happy look, signaling his thanks. She removed her hand from his shoulder and he relaxed before bowing his head to her, “If you don’t mind, I’ll let you have some time with Takahiro,” He still didn’t like the sound of Hanamaki’s given time coming from his own voice, “I need to make a phone call.”

Hanamaki’s mother dismissed him with a wave and a tired smile, Matsukawa only just realizing how frail she looked, stress really did that to a person. He sighed, shutting the door to Makki’s room quietly and walking down the hallway, illuminated with morning sunlight. 

The hospital still smelled like chemicals but now it held a hit was a syrupy scent and he couldn’t tell if it was the fall air or whatever was being cooked for breakfast for the patients here. Whatever it was it made his stomach tighten, causing him to realize that he hadn’t since yesterday morning, he usually skipped lunch because he was never hungry, and he was forced to skip dinner as well. Although he was starving, he wouldn’t allow himself to go to the cafeteria. He was too self-conscious to eat in front of other people, the exceptions being his own family and his small group of three friends, which is also part of the reason he skipped lunch. 

Matsukawa leaned against the wall outside of Hanamaki’s door and pulled his phone from his pocket, scrolling through his contacts and clicking on Iwaizumi’s. Placing the phone to his ear he waited as it rung once, then twice, and then stopped before the third as Iwaizumi picked up. 

“Hello?” Iwaizumi sighed on the other line, his voice was raspy and he sounded exhausted.

Matsukawa felt bad about calling him so early in the morning when he knew Iwaizumi had probably been up late into the night, he’d actually probably woken him up. But, he knew that he had to talk with his friends, maybe provide reassurance, “Hey, Iwaizumi…” 

Matsukawa took a deep breath. He didn’t exactly know if he was ready to face the truth he knew iwaizumi would have for him. But he had to do this.

“Can we talk?”


	11. Chapter Eleven

“Hello?”

“Hey, Iwaizumi… can we talk?”

“Of course.”

Matsukawa took a deep breath and continued, “So, you do know what it does, right? The disease?”

Iwaizumi was quiet for a moment before responding with a hum, “Yeah, I know what it does.”

“You know what it’s caused by, right?” Matsukawa asked.

“...”

He waited for Iwaizumi’s response but it never came. Matsukawa waited a bit longer, hearing talking in the background, most likely it was Oikawa since Iwaizumi had said the other night that he was at the setters house. 

Iwaizumi turned back to the phone and finally responded in a breathy tone, “Yeah, I know what it’s caused by.”

Matsukawa pushed away from the wall he leaned on and paced the hall, “I would ask who it was that caused this but that would be a pretty dense thing to ask, wouldn’t it…”

“Yeah, that would be pretty dense.” Iwaizumi agreed. 

“But…” Matsukawa trailed off.

“But what?” iwaizumi grumbled.

“But, what if it’s not me? I can’t just assume stuff in a situation like this.” Matsukawa complained.

He heard a very loud slap from the other end of the phone and was positive it was Iwaizumi facepalming himself as hard as he could. Iwaizumi groaned with exasperation and put the phone back to his ear.

“Listen here, you self-conscious, over-thinking, overly quiet little brat,” That was unnecessarily harsh but it was coming from Iwaizumi so it wasn’t too surprising, “Who else do you think it could be? Hanamaki literally has no friends other than me, you, and Oikawa. He’s not even very good friends with the other members of our team. Hanamaki has never, not even once, looked at anyone with as much admiration as he looks at you with. And it’s definitely not me or Oikawa.”

He sighed, closing his eyes, “So, what do I do now?”

Iwaizumi thought for a second before exhaling deeply, “How do you really feel about Hanamaki?”

Matsukawa stopped and thought, “I-”

All of a sudden Hanamaki’s mother walked out of his room, looking as sullen as ever. Matsukawa flinched as she turned to him with a sniffle and a small smile.

“I’ve got to go. I’ll call you back.” Matsukawa quickly offered Iwaizumi, pulling his phone away from his ear.

The last thing he heard before hanging up was Iwaizumi yell through the phone, “Wait, what?! You better call me back you coward!” 

Matsukawa shoved his phone back into his pocket and turned towards Hanamaki’s mother, “You have to go to work now, right?”

Hanamaki’s mother nodded sadly, “Unfortunately, yes. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine.” Matsukawa reassured, “I’ll look after him, you know that.”

“Thank you, Issei, I appreciate everything you’ve done.” She bowed her head respectfully to him.

Matsukawa tensed, same as before, he did not like the praise she was giving him, “It’s nothing, really. I’m just making sure he gets better, ma’am.”

“You don’t need to call me ma’am anymore, not after what you’ve done for us.” Hanamaki’s mother insisted, “You can call me Sakiko if you’d like.” 

Matsukawa hummed a quiet thanks as Hanamaki’s mother, Sakiko, walked away. He watched her go and waited until she had rounded the corner to go back into Hanamaki’s room. He was still blissfully asleep when he got there.

“Iwa-Chan?” Oikawa mumbled, awaken by the noise of people speaking, “Who’re on the phone with?” He asked groggily, rubbing his chocolate eyes. 

Iwaizumi turned to him, covering the speaker on the phone and whispering back to him, “Matsukawa.”

Oikawa instantly jolted up from his sheets, wide-eyed, his hair a morning mess, “Really?!” He gasped almost too dramatically, “What’s he saying?”

“I can’t tell when you’re over there screaming, be quiet, would you?” Iwaizumi grumbled.

Oikawa murmured a quick, “Oh, sorry!” Before leaning his soft cheek in his palm. 

Iwaizumi rolled his dark hazel eyes before turning to the phone again and uttering, “Yeah, I know what it’s caused by.”

Oikawa knew they were talking about Hanamaki’s… condition, and he wanted to know what Matsukawa was saying but the other voice on the line was muffled and inaudible. He sighed and pouted, closing his eyes before hopping out of bed. He changed into more suitable clothes, a burgundy cable knit sweater that was one size too big for him and some dark gray sweatpants. He didn’t plan on going out so he dressed in comfy attire. 

When he turned back around Iwaizumi was yelling into the phone before he was cut off by a series of beeps. He scoffed loudly, and cursed under his breath, shaking his head, “Coward.” He repeated. 

“How are they doing?” Oikawa asked hesitantly.

Iwaizumi shook his head, “I dunno. I’m assuming Hanamaki hasn’t woken up yet and Matsukawa sounds more tired and depressed than usual but it’s absolutely justified.”

“You seem frustrated…” He murmured.

“I am!” Iwaizumi huffed, “Matsukawa, he’s just… I dunno.” He sighed, running a hand through his spiky black hair. 

Oikawa nodded, sitting next to his best friend and placing a hand on his shoulder, “I know. I’m scared and you’re angry and Mattsun isn’t talking and everything is just really confusing right now.”

Iwaizumi nodded, rubbing the bridge of his nose and slumping forwards with a sigh. Oikawa patted his shoulder again and the wing spiker looked at him.

“But you know what would make us feel a bit better?” Oikawa prompted.

Iwiazumi rolled his eyes and chuckled, “What?”

“Pancakes, obviously.”


	12. Chapter Twelve

The sun was currently setting on Hanamaki’s first day unconscious in the hospital. Matsukawa’s mother had come by in the afternoon and forced him to come home, eat a proper meal, shower, and change into clean clothes. Luckily, she let him go back to the hospital afterwards but made him promise that he would come home at the end of the next day for school. 

Matsukawa really didn’t want to have to go back to school and walk down the hallway where Hanamaki had almost died. 

He knew that they had cleaned up the blood and the flowers but he was fairly certain that image would be burned into his eyes every time he passed the general area. 

Iwaizumi had texted him saying that Oikawa had seemed to calm down but that he was still a little bit shaken up. Matsukawa was glad that at least one of his friends seemed to be okay. Iwaizumi still sounded very tense, watching Oikawa all day was probably draining the life out of him. 

Matsukawa sighed, closing his eyes and banging the back of his head again the wall. Everything was unusually quiet in the hospital, back home his siblings would be yelling and running around at this time and he would be busy scolding them while trying not to let their dinner burn. He huffed out a breath and slumped forwards, rubbing his exhausted eyes. 

He couldn’t really tell how he was feeling at the moment. He felt sad and scared and nervous, but, ever since that morning when he had called Iwaizumi, he was very frustrated with himself. Matsukawa was running his brain constantly, trying to think of the perfect way to describe how he felt about the gorgeous pink haired boy laying in the hospital bed before him. 

He shook his head and groaned, “Why is my brain so useless?” 

The only response he got was the soft beeping of Hanamaki’s heart monitor. He had grown accustomed to the noise, it gave him reassurance when his idiodic mind got the better of him. 

Right now, though, it gave him nothing.

He was still frustrated.

So, he decided to, rather than fretting over everything he mind was not capable of, just sit in silence. After a while he zoned out and began wondering what it was like for Hanamaki in this situation.

What was he seeing?

What was he thinking?

What was he feeling?

Was he seeing pure white, or pure black? Would he wake up thinking no time had passed at all and say the last thing he remembered was closing his eyes?

Was it like a dream for him? Was it like he was trapped in is own mind, still holding sentience but being unable to move? 

Could he feel everything, or was everything numb for him? Could he feel the flowers rampaging his lungs? 

Was he still in pain while he was unconscious?

That thought really it him. 

Matsukawa’s eyes widened and his eyebrows knitted together with worry. Was Hanamaki still in pain and had he been in pain this whole time? He didn’t know if the doctors were giving him medication for pain. Why would they waste it on a patient who wasn’t awake to feel anything? 

What if Hanamaki was suffering in silence while everyone watched? 

Matsukawa had to place his hands over his ears to drown out his own thoughts. He couldn’t bear to think about things like that any longer, he didn’t want his mind to run any deeper. 

If he hadn’t uncovered his ears at the right moment, he probably wouldn’t have heard the voices outside and door click open. In walked in a fairly tall woman with light brown hair, he couldn’t tell what her eye color was from the lighting but he knew they were green. Hanamaki’s older sister, he’d remember that icy face anywhere.

But, now her cold glare was a tired, sullen look. 

She noticed him out of the corner of her eye and he stood, bowing respectfully to the older woman. Hanamaki’s sister was about 23 and was in Nursing school, she still wore her scrubs beneath her coat. She had obviously come here straight after work. 

She smiled to him and sighed in a rough but still very feminine voice, “Nice to see you, kid.” 

“It’s nice to see you too, Sakura-san. I just wish it wasn’t due to such circumstances.” He greeted, quietly.

“Have you…” She clutched onto the strap of her bag and glanced over at her younger brother, out the window at the sun sinking below the buildings, and back up at him with a concerned glance, “Have you been here this whole time?”

Matsukawa nodded, “I left once this afternoon but came back.”

Sakura sighed and pulled the chair near the door towards him, “Sit down, I think we should talk.” She gestured towards the chair behind him and he hesitantly sat.

She folded her hands and took out a large binder from her bag, “I’ve been doing some research ever since I heard what happened. I found out some pretty unsavory stuff.”

Sakura flipped open the binder and instantly Matsukawa saw pages and pages of flowers and people and hospitals and maps. She wasn’t kidding when she said she’d been researching since last night. She pointed to a specific picture.

“So far, there have been 70 recorded cases of this disease world-wide, the earliest one dating back to an ancient Egyptian woman who fell in love with a pharaoh. There were stories about the ‘flower faced woman’ etched into his grave chamber. There was even a drawing of her with a flower covering her mouth. America has the most recorded cases of Hanahaki.” 

Sakura then tapped lightly on the photo of a girl with short brown hair, “This is a case from America where this girl right here developed Hanahaki after liking a boy she met in elementary school got out of hand. She died three weeks later because she never told him. These are the newspaper articles written about it, her memorial at her school, and the marches that were started in America after they realized how deadly the disease was and that they needed a medicine to cure it.” She explained, now pointing to a page full of pictures of large crowds.

She flipped the page to a dark skinned older woman with grayed hair, “She was so heartbroken after her husband’s death that she developed Hanahaki. She died about a month later but the medical force that had worked on her said that she had a heart issue which could have been the cause of her death and not the flowers slowly choking her to death,” Sakura scoffed disgustedly, “That poor woman died of a disease and they blamed it on something else. That’s an awful way to have your death be taken.”

Sakura went over around twenty other cases, all of them were unique and most of the victims were females. She said that it was because woman are constantly putting each other down and forcing each other into body images that aren’t healthy, metally or physically, and that heightens the fragility of feminine self esteem so that they have no confidence when it comes to love. 

Then, she flipped to a page full of her own hand writing, “I wrote down all the symptoms of the disease, the shortest and longest recorded times people have lived with this disease, and the procedures taken by the medical force.”

She then handed the binder to him and stood, “I’ve gotta go now, visiting hours end in about five minutes. Stay safe, get some sleep, and make sure the little monster over there doesn’t die while I’m gone, alright?” She asked, nodded in her brother’s direction.

“Of course, and you stay safe and get some sleep too,” Matsukawa offered his hand for her but instead the woman embraced him in a tight hug.

This time, he didn’t stiffen at the touch of another human being, but he hugged her back. Sakura was like an older sister to him, and the only thing he could really do for her was provide understanding and reliability. 

They parted and she waved on her way out. As soon as she left Matsukawa sighed, re-opening the binder.

After my research, I have discovered that Hanahaki is a disease with many strings and variations. Some cases are minor, lasting only a few days, mimicking the symptoms of a common cold, and can disappear quickly, these are the most common and the average person can experience this minor case of the disease once or more in their life time. These cases usually don’t call for medical attention unless blood and/or flowers are present. 

Some cases are median, lasting from anywhere from one week to several months. This string mimics symptoms of COPD, Cystic Fibrosis, and lung obstructions of course, with minor to median blood presence and flower presence. Usually, only petals are coughed or vomitted up in these cases. In the 70 recorded cases, this string is most common. Medical attention is needed and the disease can be cured by either surgery or reciprocation of feelings of love, or death. 

In rare cases, the disease can become deadly very quickly or very slowly. For more quicker cases in this instance, the victim can be rendered deceased within a matter of days of contracting the disease, immediate medical attention is needed at the first sign of the disease. In slower cases, the victim may not experience symptoms until weeks after contracting the disease, and even then, the symptoms show slowly and worsen with time. Death to the victim can happen anywhere from several weeks to even years without surgery or reciprocated feelings. 

Symptoms, although, in the slower cases, are unnecessarily brutal. Sleep deprivation and sudden shortness of breath are the early signs of the disease, progressing into constant nocturnal restlessness, lowering appetite and body temperature, tightness in chest and sore throat, loss of motivation and lack of focus and soon progressing into more concerning symptoms such as extreme weight loss, hypothermia due to lowered body temperature, chronic insomnia, mood swings, major hallucinations, vomiting and not just of flowers, progression in roots set in the lungs becoming quicker, flowers growing larger, sometimes even growing up the esophagus, and major loss of blood orally. Cases like this are especially deadly and hospitalization is needed at the first signs of the disease, which may be difficult seeing as the early symptoms mimic other sicknesses. 

Medications that have been used in previous cases are tiotropium which is inhaled orally using a specially designed inhaler and is a bronchodilator used on COPD patients. This medicine works by relaxing and opening air passages to make breathing easier. It helps with shortness of breath, chest tightness, coughing, and to prevent wheezing. Tiotropium is taken one a day, either in the morning or evening, but is not supposed to be used for sudden episodes of coughing or wheezing, that is the job of a seperate inhaler that can be prescribed. Although, usually this separate inhaler is not prescribed for Hanahaki patients as they are advised to cough up any obstructions. 

Another medication used for more minor cases can be fluticasone which is a nasal spray used typically for runny or itchy noses, watering eyes, and hay fever. This medication can be used on Hanahaki patients after an attack to clear the nasal cavities and stop inflammation from the coughing. 

Other treatments can include oxygen treatments used to increase oxygen into the lungs and bloodstream typically in COPD patients. This treatment is used in median to major cases to provide more oxygen to aid in breathing. Improved oxygen levels can help Hanahaki patients live more comfortably and longer in the case of unwanted surgery or unwanted confession. Some signs of the treatment working can be lesser periods of shortened breath, lighter amounts of petals, and more energy. Sleeping medications of different magnitudes can be used to assist patients in falling asleep and pain medications such as the commonly used morphine can be used to lower the suffering of patients. 

This disease is not at all, by any means, normal or common. People who have contracted this disease usually have mental and physical problems. Physical disorders such as muscular dystrophy, immunodeficiency, and the previously mentioned COPD and cystic fibrosis. Psychological problems such as depression, a number of anxiety disorders (GAD, social anxiety, panic disorder, and/or separation Anxiety), HSP, and over thinkers. These people are more susceptible to the disease due to their problems but this disease doesn’t happen to every single one of them as this disease is exceptionally rare.

Surgery, although, can be somewhat of a cure for Hanahaki. But conciquences can proove the be unwanted after the procedure is done. Side effects of surgery are almost a garentee. These side effects include loss of feelings towards the one once loved, inability to ever feel love again, and lack of any emotion at all. Even after the disease is cured, with or without the surgery or reciprocation, damage can remain permanent to the lungs which can leave patients unable to run or walk for long distances and be around smoke or any other gases. 

A common fear of this disease can be the growth of roses which, due to being accompanied by thorns, can cause a faster death with more pain and blood. The damage seen to the lungs by doctors has been descirbed as horrendous. Something commonly feared are flowers with prominent vines which can strangle the lungs, depleating them from oxygen within days, from the inside out.

The mortality rate of this disease-

Matsukawa stopped and stared at the words scrawled across the page in front of him. A small part of him hoped that what he was reading was just a spelling error, but he knew that that wasn’t the case.

The mortality rate of this disease reached nearly 97 percent. No cure has yet been discovered. Lives can, will, and have been lost.

Flowers, beautiful, harmless flowers, are killers and love, worshipped, confusing love, is the mastermind.


End file.
